My stomach sank. Menandros. Of course it was Menandros.
He stood there with a couple of his lackeys, smug as ever, arms folded, grinning. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear me say done? Long enough to catch Perry and me strategizing about my class? Gods, what if he'd heard everything?
My thoughts spiraled in rapid fire: my mother would know, the Sisters would know, the whole damned city would know. I'd be thrown out, disowned, maybe "accidentally" pushed down some temple stairs. Hecate, patron saint of bad decisions, killed by the loose lips of fucking Menandros.
He gave me that oily smile. "I knew it," he said. "I saw you waving at me in the amphitheater. Couldn't take your eyes off me, could you? I knew you'd come around eventually."
A wave of relief washed over me. The stupid oaf hadn't heard a damn thing.
"Look, Menandros," I said, cutting him off before he could flap his idiot mouth again. "I am really not in the mood for this right now. So just jog along, please."
Menandros' expression soured the moment his gaze slid to Perry. "Oh, I see. That's it, isn't it? Because your little boyfriend's here." His lip curled. "Or is he your servant? Your little helper?"
He jabbed a finger toward me. "I saw you waving at me. Don't deny it!"
"I am denying it," I shot back. "Loudly. Clearly. In fact, let me put it on record: not waving at you. Never waved at you. Wouldn't wave at you if you were on fire to put the flames out."
A couple of his companions shifted uncomfortably. One even smothered a laugh.
Menandros' face darkened. He took a step toward me and raised a hand like he was about to slap me across the face.
I didn't flinch. I just stared him down until he wavered. He hesitated, then pulled his hand back and laughed. "I wouldn't hit a weak little woman like you."
He turned to Perry. "But I will hit you."
A clean backhand landed across Perry's face. Perry staggered, eyes wide, then tried to steady himself. For a heartbeat he looked like he might answer, to push back, to say something, then fear took him under, and he didn't.
Nobody stopped him. Nobody touched Menandros. The three men with him laughed. One clapped his hands like it was a performance. Another whistled.
In a reflex I lunged for the arm that had struck my friend. Menandros barely bothered to turn. He even let me grab his sleeve, and I pulled it until my fingers burned, then shrugged me off like I was nothing more but an annoying fly.
I tried to punch him, but his barrier flared, and I hurt my hand instead. He turned his head to me and grabbed Perry's shirt.
Menandros yanked him forward like he weighed nothing. His face twisted with that ugly, smug anger I'd seen a hundred times before. "You think you're too good for me, huh?" he spat, eyes flicking back to me. "Mock me in front of my friends? Then watch me put your little helper in the dirt."
My heart dropped. No way. Not even Menandros would—
He slammed his fist into Perry's gut before I could finish the thought.
Perry doubled over with a choking sound, knees hitting the ground. The men behind Menandros barked laughter, one of them actually hooting like this was the best entertainment he'd had all week.
I lunged again, caught Menandros' arm with both hands and pulled until my shoulders strained, but he didn't even stagger. He turned his head lazily, almost bored, then shoved me off like I wasn't even there.
He looked back down at Perry, still wheezing on the ground, and sneered. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth."
And then he raised his hand again.
What could I do? Nothing had worked. Not grabbing his arm, not yanking him back, not even punching him. His barrier laughed at me while his fist kept hammering Perry.
He struck again. A clean crack against Perry's face. He hit the dirt hard, blood trickling from his mouth. My chest tightened so much it hurt.
"This is all your fault," Menandros sneered, turning his grin back to me. "If you'd just behaved, if you'd just listened, your little helper wouldn't be bleeding on the ground."
I had to do something, then I remembered my revolver. Maybe I could intimidate him. Get him to stop beating Perry. I pulled it from my belt and pointed it at him. "Stop hitting him," I said, voice low and shaking. "Stop right now, or I swear by Mēnē, I'll shoot you."
For half a heartbeat there was silence, then Menandros threw his head back and laughed, loud and ugly, and his hangers-on joined in like obedient dogs.
"You?" he jeered. "You're going to shoot me?"
I knew it was now or never, so I fired. His golden barrier flared, and the bullet disintegrated in a spray of sparks. Menandros roared with laughter, louder this time, like I'd just handed him the best joke of his life. "You actually shot me?" he said between laughs. "I didn't think you would! Go on then, shoot me again!" He jabbed a finger at his own forehead, grinning. "Right here. Come on. Do it."
Of course it hadn't done anything. Why would it? His barrier had tanked a musket volley earlier without a crack. All I'd done was show my hand. All I'd done was make him laugh harder while Perry bled at his feet.
Panic clawed at me. My chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped out the floor and left me teetering at the edge. I couldn't call for help—we'd come up this hill exactly because we knew there wouldn't be anyone to hear us. I couldn't stop him with my fists or my revolver, since his barrier simply absorbed everything. Except… I did have [Clean Entry]. But using it meant I'd have to kill him. Anything less and he'd probably kill us both. One cast. One bullet. Pull that trigger and my life was over.
His eyes flicked down to Perry, then back up to me. He jabbed a finger at his temple, the same dumb, cocky grin still glued to his face. "Right here. Shoot me in the head. Do it. I dare you." He leaned in. "Or I kill him. Right now."
The world narrowed until all I could hear was the blood in my ears. The pistol felt impossibly heavy. [Clean Entry] pulsed like a drum in the back of my skull. One full cast, one perfect shot that might, maybe, pierce that barrier and save Perry's life.
I stared at Menandros, then I looked at Perry—eyes half-closed, blood smeared on his face, trying to breathe through it—and for one absurd second my brain tried to bargain: maybe I could aim for his arm, maybe it would scare him, maybe—
"Decide," Menandros hissed. "Shoot me, right here," he pointed at his temple again, "or he dies."
No theatrics. No speech. Just the dumb ultimatum of a bully who didn't realize what he was asking of me.
Maybe I could convince him somehow. My mouth even opened to try—some half-formed threat, some bluff—but nothing came out. My throat was sand. He had all the power here: the barrier and the goons.
"It would kill you," I blurted out in a last-ditch effort. "If I shot you in the head it would kill you."
Menandros grinned wider, if that was possible. "Oh? Is that a promise or a threat?" His fingers tightened on Perry's shirt. "Then do it, if you think you can get past my barrier."
The laughter had gone out of Menandros' crew. Perry made a tiny, wet sound, his hand scraped the earth like he was trying to find purchase.
My hands were shaking so hard I could feel it up through my wrists. I thought about praying to Mēnē, but then I heard my father's voice in my head: A well-placed bullet is worth a hundred prayers. One full cast. One bullet. One impossible choice.
"I'm starting to get bored," Menandros said as he raised his hand again. His fist started glowing gold, bright and hot, like a miniature sun clenched in his hand. He was really going to do it. He really was going to kill Perry.
"Too late," he sneered.
My finger found the trigger. The world shrank to the space between us. This was it. After this there'd be no hiding, no going back.